


So You Do Me Wrong

by MaximillianDelirium



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, M/M, Mercutio Lives, POV First Person, Suicide, Written for a Class, also i ramble a lot, i write a fairly salty benvolio, mercutio survives because that's what i fucking feel like, old idea that i revisited, this might be the worst thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaximillianDelirium/pseuds/MaximillianDelirium
Summary: “Trust me; he’ll get over her. He always does. Some other girl eventually comes along and he forgets all about the first one.” Mercutio ignored my earlier warning and patted me on the back. “I bet you by next week he doesn’t even remember Rosaline’s name. Everything will go according to plan. You’ll see.”I saw too much. I saw things I never wanted to see.





	So You Do Me Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> we had an assignment for class to write "critical fanfiction" and i don't know if i really succeeded, but this ended up being longer than it should have OTL. i wrote a novel length, much shittier version of this way back when i was freshman in high school that was lost forever. be glad it's gone.

               When the cops asked me how it came to be that my cousin ended up committing suicide in Juliet Capulet’s hospital room, I tried to tell them the truth as I knew it. But there were some things I couldn’t say. Personal things that they didn’t want to hear. That day, a lot of what I said was, “I don’t know.”

                I didn’t know what went on inside Romeo’s head. I didn’t know that he was depressed or that he was in love with Juliet or anything really. He’d stopped talking to me a few weeks before he died. The last time I saw him, he was chasing Ty down a foggy street with a gun in his hand. For the cops, that’s where the story began. To them Romeo was a vengeful teen murderer.

                To me… I have a hard time putting it in words. 

                Back when things were relatively normal, Romeo was in love with a girl from school—Rosaline. That wasn’t new; Romeo was always in love with someone. I’d listened to him wax poetic about at least a million girls before her. Yeah, it got old after a while, but I liked it better when he was dreamy-eyed than when the girl inevitably rejected him and he went on a tirade.

                The day we crashed Juliet’s Halloween party he was on a roll. He stomped downstairs like he wanted to kill something. If his mom had been home, he would’ve had hell to pay. I realized I’d come at a bad time, but it was too late to leave, since he jumped the rest of the steps.

                “I don’t get it! Is she a lesbian or something?”

                “Rosaline?”

                “Yes, Rosaline. Benny, tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

                He asked me every time. As if I had any clue. Usually I told him to be patient. (Because if he was patient long enough, he’d fall in love with someone else.) However, he was being pretty persistent with Rosaline.

                “Maybe she just doesn’t know you well enough,” I said. “You have a…reputation.”

                “A reputation?”

                “Um, just. You’re Romeo Montague. People have certain ideas about you and the family. It might be intimidating.”

Our families are old mafia. It’s not something we like to advertise. Most of that stuff has fallen by the wayside. We have the restaurants and the more honest members of the family with reputable jobs to support us. Personally, I don’t want any part of it, and my immediate family has the good luck to be kept out of most shady dealings.

                The feud with the Capulets was the one thing that couldn’t be negotiated. That had been going on since before our parents were born. No one remembers what sparked the hostilities. Whatever it was, it was bad enough to maintain a hundred-year grudge. We usually didn’t have to think about it, unless Mercutio was feeling particularly reckless, or Ty was pissed off and on patrol for a reason to throw punches.

                For the most part, people from school didn’t know, but there were rumors. When you’re from a big Italian family locked in a death match with another big Italian family, it’s not hard to connect the dots.

                Romeo shot me an offended look. “I’m trying my best.”

                “I’m sorry; I’m not really qualified in this. Why don’t you ask Mercutio?”

                “Mercutio doesn’t know anything about what I’m going through,” Romeo scoffed.

                “What does Mercutio not know?” Speak of the Devil and he appears. Mercutio came out of the kitchen, his cheek bulging. “Is this about that same chick?”

                “She’s not ‘some chick,’” Romeo snapped.

                “Whoa, chill out.” Mercutio dusted off his hands and swallowed. He reached for me—probably to hang off of me like he usually did—but I took a step back.

                “I’m wearing black, man,” I said. “Keep your powdered sugar off my shirt.”

                “Whatever.” To Romeo, he said, “Give up on Rosaline, bro. She’s not interested. And she’s out of your league.”

                Romeo’s lip curled. “Says the guy who’s never been in a steady relationship.”

                “Neither have you. I don’t know why you bother.” Mercutio shook his head. “There’s a million other girls who’d go out with you if you asked. Isn’t that right, Benny?”

                “Sure,” I said, though I had no clue whether it was actually true.

                “Make out with someone else and get over her.”

                Romeo’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he wanted to strangle both of us. “Rosaline is worth fighting for,” he said. His voice softened. “I think I’m in love.”

                Mercutio groaned. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.

                “Okay,” Mercutio said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. The Caps are throwing a party tonight and we should totally crash it.”

                “No,” I said. We’d crashed parties before, but never a Capulet party. It was certain death.

                “You didn’t give me a chance to explain the plan.”

                “I don’t need to hear it. Whatever it is, it won’t work. Ty knows our faces. Or did you forget?”

                “Man, that’s what’s so perfect about the plan!” Mercutio rummaged in his pocket and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper. He unfolded it so that I could see. “It’s a _Halloween_ party. Costumes required. No one needs to see our faces.”

                Romeo examined the little flier. “How is this supposed to help me?”

                “Rosaline is best friends with the Capulets. She and Juliet are like this.” Mercutio crossed his first two fingers. “She’s definitely going to be there. I asked around. Plus, word is that the Caps don’t go in for parental supervision. Need I say more?”

                “Who’s Juliet? A Capulet obviously, but I’ve never met her,” I said.

                Mercutio snorted. “Just a freshman. I think she’s _the_ Capulet’s daughter.” ( _The_ Capulet being the patriarch of the entire Cap Clan—that’s how Mercutio put it, anyway.) “It’s going to be so lit. They can probably afford the good shit.”

                “Who cares?” Romeo said. “You’re sure Rosaline will be there?”

                “One hundred percent.”

                I didn’t like it. Normally, it was up to me to talk Romeo and Mercutio out of doing something stupid. “If Ty catches us, he’ll send our parents our severed heads. And if our parents find out we went to a Capulet party and didn’t take revenge, they’ll flay us.”

                I should’ve known that line of reasoning wouldn’t work. Mercutio didn’t give a damn about what our parents thought. In his opinion, the old ways were dying. He meant that we were better off living by our own rules, rather than those laid down by Mafiosi who’d been dead long before we were even conceived. Even though I agreed with that sentiment, I didn’t think it was a good excuse to get himself killed or, at the very least, curb stomped by Ty Capulet.

                “We’re not going to get caught, Benny,” Mercutio said. “If it starts going bad, we’ll leave. Please? I’d feel bad if you didn’t come.”

                “Yeah,” Romeo added. “Who else is going to hold our hand while we puke?”

                This was how they always got me. _Oh, Benny, we can’t do it without you. No one else understands. You’re always there for us._ They knew exactly how to rope me into their idiotic schemes and somehow my selective amnesia kicked in every time they did it.

                “Fine,” I said. “But you need to promise me you won’t make a scene.”

                “ _S_ _ì, s_ _ì, Mama_ ,” Mercutio teased. He poked my cheek. “Romeo, do you still have those masks left over from last year?”

                “They’re around somewhere. I’ll go check.” He jogged back upstairs.

                Once he was upstairs, Mercutio let out a quiet laugh. “I didn’t think that would work. See? I know how to perk him up.”

                “I don’t get you sometimes,” I said. “You’re just feeding his obsession.”

                “Oh, I’m not. There’s going to be other girls there. Hotter and more receptive than Rosaline. After he gets a few drinks in him, I’m sure he’ll stop being so picky.” He winked.

                I smiled. “Ah, okay. Good luck.”

                “Trust me; he’ll get over her. He always does. Some other girl eventually comes along and he forgets all about the first one.” Mercutio ignored my earlier warning and patted me on the back. “I bet you by next week he doesn’t even remember Rosaline’s name. Everything will go according to plan. You’ll see.”

                I saw too much. I saw things I never wanted to see.

 

                There were moments when I could forget how much Romeo got on my nerves.

It wasn’t that I hated him. I cared about him a lot. Family had to care about each other. If Romeo didn’t have me, he would’ve been in the ground before we even started high school. It was just hard not to resent him sometimes, especially when he did something on impulse. I could barely keep up. He always found some way to get into trouble. Then it was up to faithful, reliable Benny to cover.

                I could’ve said no. At any time. The only thing holding me back was the fear that they’d leave me behind. Would Mercutio and Romeo hang out with me if I didn’t act as their shield? Without them, I was nothing. A good student, a polite young man, but nothing more than that. Mercutio and Romeo took me places. Next to them, I felt needed.

                There are times I worry that my name determined my role in life. My mother clearly wanted a girl named “Benevolence” but she got “Benvolio” instead. Shortening it didn’t help; I can’t count how many assorted aunts, uncles, and cousins giggled as they called me “Bene” the first time around. A good boy, through and through. I suppose it was the truth.

                Of course, good boys don’t go party crashing in enemy territory with their two best friends.

                We tumbled into the night, cheap masks over our faces, arms around each other. Romeo staggered at my left, Mercutio at my right. They squished me in between them, practically yelling in my ear. It was ten. According to Mercutio, not too late and not too early. By this point, the party would be in full swing and people would be less likely to take notice of interlopers.

                We came across a cat girl and a sexy nurse—presumably on their way to a different party—and Mercutio leered at them a bit. I elbowed him in the ribs. Romeo stared into the distance, his mouth pursed like he’d tasted something sour. They weren’t Rosaline.

                “I’ve got a good feeling about tonight,” Mercutio said.

                “I don’t,” Romeo said. “Something’s off.”

                “Don’t start with that bull.”

                “No, seriously,” Romeo insisted. “I get the feeling something Earth shattering is about to happen.”

                Mercutio and I shared a glance. “Maybe Rosaline will finally say yes,” I offered.

                “Or you’ll fall for some other girl,” Mercutio countered. “The night is full of possibilities.”

                Romeo looked pensive. “I had a dream last night.”

                “Everybody dreams.”

                “This was different. I can’t remember all the details, but when I woke up I felt weird.”

                Mercutio unlinked himself from our chain. “You’ve been reading Zia Paloma’s new age books again. Dreams don’t mean anything. They aren’t signs or whatever. They’re puzzle pieces our brains put together when we sleep. The other night, I dreamed I was a tree. Totally random.”

                I laughed. “What kind of tree?”

                “I don’t know. But I was really tall and all these girls were climbing me.” He smiled suggestively. “Felt nice.”

                “Pervert.”

                He ignored it and threw his arms up to the sky. “Anyway! Forget about bad dreams. Anything could happen tonight. Fire could rain from the sky. Maybe Benny will finally hook up with someone!” He pulled me away from Romeo and spun me under his arm, then swung me around once or twice. “Don’t you feel alive?”

                Mercutio released my hand and I fell into a light pole, nearly cracking my head open on it. I caught my breath while I steadied myself. The air was sweet. I did feel alive. The world was lying before us—or before Mercutio and Romeo, at least. Back then, I could make myself believe that we were immortal.

 

                 The house pulsed with music. Even just standing on the front stoop, you could feel it hum through your bones. Friends of the Capulets streamed around us through the door, barely acknowledging us. Mercutio gave me a thumbs up and pressed on. Inside, it was darker than I expected. The lights had all been covered with fabric so that they were not only dimmed, but colored in oranges and blues.

                It was in my best interest to keep an eye on Romeo but with all the people it was hard to spot him. He moved fast, chatting with random guests and swiping drinks, fitting himself neatly into the scene like a gear in a clock. I wished I could do that. I had more talent at being generally inoffensive than charming.

                Mercutio promised not to ditch me but I saw the way his eyes darted around the room. I didn’t want to be left alone. Not at a Capulet party with only a Zorro mask to protect me.

                “Let Romeo do his thing,” Mercutio said. He had to shout over the music. He made a pass by the drinks table and came back with two cups. He handed me one. “He’ll be fine. Worst case scenario is we get caught and kicked out.”

                “Ty is out for blood,” I said, taking an experimental sip. I spit it out immediately. Mercutio laughed. “What did you put in this?”

                “I think it’s rum, Sprite, and peach schnapps.”

                I put the cup down on an end table. “Disgusting. You know what he’s like when he’s drunk. I don’t want him to get in a fight.”

                “Benny, tone down the ‘Mom Friend’ thing for a while. We promised not to mess around, didn’t we?” He took my hand. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to play beer pong.”

                As he was leading me through the house, we spotted her—Juliet—near the kitchen. She was dressed as some sort of zombie bride. I hadn’t realized how young she was. Freshmen look younger and younger to me each year, and I know it’s because I'm getting older, but Juliet Capulet was like a doll. She was pretty and small, with straight black hair. Her cousin, Ty, was watching the party with a hawk-like stare.

                Mercutio whistled. “Can you say jailbait?”

                I punched him in the arm. “Shut up. Quick, before he sees us.” I nodded at Ty.

                He took my wrist and pulled me down into the basement. Later, when I thought about my brief glimpses of Juliet Capulet, I realized that even in the middle of her friends, she seemed sad. There was a restless look in her eyes that only went away when she spoke to Ty. Rosaline said at her memorial service that Juliet saw the world differently from other kids her age. I wondered what she saw that night. (I wondered what her first impression of Romeo was. What thoughts raced through her mind when he broke away from the crowd?)

                The basement was quieter than upstairs. A few kids I recognized from school were playing beer pong. And, shockingly, there was Rosaline, sitting on the couch. She was watching the game with an amused smile. Despite Mercutio saying she would be there, I hadn’t expected to run into her.

                When Mercutio ran over to the beer pong table, I lingered behind. I shared a few classes with Rosaline but we didn’t talk. I don’t think I would’ve paid her much attention if not for Romeo’s crush. She was pretty. That night she was dressed as Dorothy, her ruby slippers propped up on the ottoman.

                She saw through my disguise in two seconds. Her eyes widened. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

                “I know, but Mercutio and Romeo wanted to come…”

                Rosaline groaned. “Please don’t tell him I’m down here.”

                I flashed her a three-fingered salute. “I won’t. Has he been bothering you?”

                “Constantly. Keep your cousin on a leash. Same goes for him.” She jerked her head at Mercutio. “I didn’t think you were the party crashing type. Shows what I know.”

                “I’m not. I’m just a… tag-along.” Saying it out loud was more depressing than thinking it.

                “Ty will kill you if he finds out.”

                “That’s what I told them, but they really wanted to go out tonight. We’re actually trying to convince Romeo to let you go.”

                Rosaline glanced up at me. A few pieces of blond hair had escaped her wig. “I know he’s your cousin and all, so no offense, but he’s such a fuckboy.”

                “It’s not like that,” I said. I would have told her about everything Romeo had whispered and sighed to me about his love for her, but it would’ve just creeped her out. “His feelings are real. He’s just intense.”

                Mercutio slammed back a red cup to a chorus of hoots from the other players. I was praying he wouldn’t go overboard. I’d had to pry Mercutio off of a guy one too many times. The fact that some of these people were Capulets set me on edge. It felt like a fight was just around the corner.

                “Why do you hang out with them?” Rosaline asked. “They don’t seem to be your type.”

                I don’t know what it was; maybe it was Rosaline’s straightforward nature. Maybe it was the mask. Either way, I felt the need to be honest. “Because I love them.”

               

                I spent the rest of the party sitting next to Rosaline on the couch, idly chatting about school and other normal, boring things. Mercutio disappeared upstairs for a while. When he came back down, he had a bunch of black lipstick smudges around his mouth.

                “There you are,” he said, grabbing my arms and pulling me to my feet. “We gotta go.”

                “What did you do?”

                “Nothing, nothing. The Caps are just getting squirrely. We better get out of here before they start looking too closely at us.”

                I glanced at Rosaline. She smiled. “It was nice talking to you,” I said.

                Mercutio tugged insistently at me. “Benny,” he whined.

                “Um, bye. See you at school.” I let Mercutio lead me out of the basement. Once we were out of earshot, I asked, “Did you get too close to somebody’s girlfriend?”

                “I told you I didn’t do anything. She was unattached.” He smirked over his shoulder at me. “You wound me. I made you a promise.”

                “You tend to break your promises.”

                “Never to you. By the way, who was that you were with?”

                “Rosaline. She’s pretty cool. I can see why Romeo likes her.”

                Mercutio gasped. “He’s going to be so mad when he finds out you’re moving in on his girl. Don’t worry. I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

                “It’s not like that,” I said. We were back in the thick of things. The energy hadn’t wound down at all. We almost got separated by a sweep of football players. I found Mercutio’s wrist in the muddle and held on for dear life.

                We found Romeo in the kitchen. He seemed different than he had been earlier. At first I thought the alcohol had relaxed him. He didn’t say much on the walk home, but from time to time he would smile, like he was remembering a joke.

                “Did you have a good time?” Mercutio asked.

                Romeo nodded. “You know… that moment when you find someone who actually gets you, and everything seems _right_ for a little while? Like, the world is still fucked up but they make it less fucked up?”

                Mercutio and I both stopped in our tracks. Mercutio spoke before I did. He was grinning from ear to ear. “You met someone?”

                “Maybe.” Romeo shrugged.

                “What about Rosaline?” I asked.

                He blinked at me.

                Mercutio grinned even wider. He put his arm around me and gave me a little shake. “What did I tell you?” he whispered, breath hot on my ear. Louder, he added, “Who is she?”

                Romeo didn’t answer. He just looked dreamily up at the sky. I think about how he must have seen her, in her purposefully tattered wedding dress. Did he look at her sad eyes and think, “Here’s someone like me”? I don’t believe in love at first sight. Romeo probably believed that what he felt that night was love. I was happy for him then.

               “Did you kiss her?” I said, thinking of Mercutio’s smudged lips.

                Romeo’s eyes lit up. “Yes.”

 

                Romeo was like a flower. I had spent hours alone with him in his room, listening to him slowly unfurl his heart. We would lie on his bed in different directions with the lights turned off and he would talk. I would listen. He wrote poetry. There were verses only I heard, pieces of himself that never left our shared confidence. Sometimes it would be hopelessly cheesy and I’d laugh at him, but I never made fun of him.

                Romeo bloomed at night. His charisma and good looks flourished in the daylight, but everything that mattered came out once the sun had gone down. He could be insufferable at times. I had seen him jump fences and turnstiles, shoplift ice cream from the 7-11, and drink too much and make a fool of himself. That was real. The Romeo that appeared after dark was also real. They were both one boy that I tried my hardest to understand, because we were family and I had to take care of him.

                Mercutio and I were there when his first crush broke his heart. He cried on my shoulder. Then Mercutio made him laugh. We stole some of his dad’s wine and had our first taste of alcohol. It burned my throat, but it was nice to be young and stupid.

 

                “You’re late.”

                “Sorry. Mom chewed me out. She said I’m never home anymore.”

                “Maybe you should stop sleeping over then,” I suggested. “And you could stand to eat your own food for once.”

                Mercutio pouted. “Sharing is caring, Benny.”

                I sighed. I liked having Mercutio over, but sometimes it felt like I was seeing too much of him lately. Either he was lurking in our kitchen in the afternoons or he was stumbling into my room at 2AM and lying down on top of the covers next to me—on the nights he didn’t take me with him. Ever since Romeo had become suddenly unavailable, we’d ended up making plans without him. Not that we never did it before; it just happened with a greater frequency.

                It had been about two weeks since the Capulet Halloween party. We assumed that Romeo’s absence was due to things going well with the girl he’d met. We were right, but we wouldn’t know for sure until later. Until too late.

                That morning I’d woken up to Mercutio practically breathing down my neck and I had almost liked the way he smothered me. And then I’d spent the rest of the day wondering why I did that. Why did I constantly shelter him when I barely got anything in return? But I knew that wasn’t exactly true because he knew I hated to be alone. With Romeo gone all the time, Mercutio was working overtime.

                _Don’t ditch me,_ I’d said to him at a different party, a few days ago.

                _I won’t,_ he’d said, and was true to his word. No, he’d never broken a promise to me.

We went down the street for gelato. Mercutio paid for me and we sat at one of the booths inside, not talking about Romeo or where he was.

                “When are you going to get a girlfriend, Benny?” Mercutio asked. He’d been texting someone he’d met at a party a few nights ago.

                “I don’t know,” I said. “When are _you_?”

                He lifted an eyebrow at me. “That’s not fair. At least I’m trying.”

                I could’ve said that he never maintained interest in a girl for more than a week, but it sounded too mean, even in my head. He _was_ trying and I was just hiding behind him and Romeo.

                Mercutio sighed and stirred up his gelato. He liked to eat half of it while it was solid and mix the rest into “ice cream soup.” Normally it wouldn’t have bothered me, but it seemed like everything he did that day was irritating.

                “Are you saving yourself for marriage?” he asked with a grin.

                “I just don’t mind waiting. Only fools rush in.”

                “So you’re saving yourself for the Right One. Same difference.” He scraped around the bottom of his cup with his spoon. “You’re never going to find your ideal. What even _are_ your standards? I feel like we’re always talking about this but you never say.”

                “That’s because I never thought about it.” I was always so swept up in Romeo’s relationship drama and Mercutio’s revolving door hookups that I didn’t have time to think about how _I_ felt. And it’s not like reliable, always-there Benny could have a girlfriend. That would mean not always being there.

                “Think about it now.”

                “I’d go out with someone nice. Funny.”

                “That’s it? Now I’m even more confused why you’re waiting.”

                I shrugged. Of course that wasn’t it. I wanted someone who cared about me, someone I could be comfortable with. Someone charming, so that I didn’t have to be. Except it never really mattered what I wanted.

                It’s terrible realizing that you’re in love with your best friend in a gelato shop. It’s bad everywhere, but the plastic seats and Italian flag color scheme somehow make it worse. I can’t explain why. Mercutio, who got my hopes up every time he said my name, sat across from me, completely unassuming.

                So I said, “Someone who pays for my gelato.”

                It made him laugh.

I feel like I’ve repeated this part a million times. Honestly, I hate to even remember it. It was not the worst night of my life, but it was a close second. Mercutio and I were out late. He’d talked me into crashing a party with him. We’d almost been caught and Mercutio was riding the adrenaline high, walking a step faster than I could manage.

                I should’ve known he was looking for trouble. He wanted to chase the high. Mercutio knew where the Capulet territory began; he didn’t get lost. That was his only crime.

                Ty was stalking the streets that night. I saw him and his posse turn the corner ahead of us as if it were in slow motion. Mercutio saw them, too. He grinned at me over his shoulder.

                “Mercutio, don’t.”

                He didn’t listen to me. I tried to take his arm and lead him away. We could’ve lied, said we’d taken a wrong turn. Mercutio brushed me off. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Yo, Ty! Looking for a good time?”

                Ty grinned back at us. His grin was predatory. Fear ran through me like a lightning bolt. He stalked toward us. I took a step back.

                “Mercutio,” I warned. “Don’t taunt him.”

                “Calm down. I got this.” To Ty, he said, “You should be a cop. I feel like you and your buddies are always on the lookout.”

                “Nah, we’re more like the neighborhood beautification committee. We’re trying to clean up any trash that blows in.”

                Mercutio’s friendly smile strained at the corners. I was terrified to get between them. Judging from previous experience, it wouldn’t be long before they were at each other’s throats. At that moment, Ty’s gaze swiveled to focus on me.

                “Aw, look,” Ty said. “You brought your boyfriend with you.”

                “I’m not his—” I began, but Mercutio cut me off with, “Shut the fuck up, Ty.”

                “Yeah, whatever. Where’s the other Montague?”

                Mercutio and I shared a glance. Romeo was still weirdly quiet. Mercutio had asked if he wanted to go out with us tonight and he’d said he had other plans. Not for the first time, I wondered where he was.

“That’s not important,” Mercutio said.

                “The little creep has been nosing around our turf for the past few days.” Ty looked at me. “Know what for?”

                Romeo in Capulet territory? I didn’t want to believe it. Of all the reckless things.

                “No, I don’t.” Mercutio folded his arms. “I think you’re full of shit. He has no reason to be in your territory.”

                “Neither do you,” Ty pointed out. He popped the knuckles on one hand. “We can escort you out the easy way or the hard way.”

                “Oh, the hard way, please.”

                “Mercutio…” I said. He wasn’t listening. “We were just leaving,” I added to Ty.

                “Listen to your bitch,” Ty said.

                It was the excuse Mercutio was waiting for. He aimed his fist directly for Ty’s jaw. Ty was expecting it; he grabbed Mercutio’s hand and twisted his arm around. Despite being in pain, Mercutio grinned.

                “Call me whatever you want,” he said as he struggled to get free, “but leave Benny out of it. He never did anything to you.”

                “He’s Montague.” Ty twisted Mercutio’s arm farther.

                I wanted to stop it, but I was outnumbered. I wasn’t a fighter. All I could do was watch as Mercutio managed to wriggle out of Ty’s grip and launch himself at him. Ty’s friends stood by, yelling at Ty to rip Mercutio’s guts out. They were a flurry of fists and legs.

                “What’s going on?”

                Romeo. He was there. I spun around. He was staring at the fight in horror. I was about to beg him to help me stop it, but he was one step ahead of me. He charged into the fray and attempted to pull Ty and Mercutio apart.

                “Stop it!” he yelled. He had a fistful of Mercutio’s shirt in one hand and Ty’s jacket in the other. They were all breathing heavily. Blood trickled from Ty’s nose. 

                Romeo wedged himself between them. “Let it go, Ty. Mercutio, you and Benny get out of here.”

                “Like hell!” Mercutio tried to grab Romeo’s elbow, but he twisted away.

                “You fucking punk,” Ty growled. “What makes you think you can just waltz into our territory? I’ve _seen_ you. I bet your daddy put you up to it.”

                “I’m not doing anything. Seriously, let them walk away. What are they guilty of? Not being Capulets?” Romeo’s face went red. “They weren’t hurting anybody.”

                “Look at my face and say that again, kid.” Mercutio had got a few good hits in. A bruise was developing under his eye. “Get out of the way.”

                “No, not until you promise to let them go. I don’t want to fight.”

                “Oh really? You’re some kind of pacifist now? What happened to your balls, kid? Your friends finally take you to the vet?” Ty raised his eyebrows. 

                Romeo frowned. “Have you ever stopped to think about how this thing between our families makes no sense? What do you get out of being a bully?”

                “Don’t try to reason with him,” Mercutio said. “He’s just a piece of shit.”

                Ty’s features darkened. “You should remember whose turf you’re on.”

                “Listen,” Romeo said. “If you let us leave, we won’t bother you again. I swear.”

                He sounded so earnest. I almost didn’t recognize him. How could he be so calm? Mercutio seemed stunned as well. A few weeks ago, Romeo would’ve jumped into the fray and started throwing punches. I remember thinking this was an improvement.

                Ty appeared to consider it. “Okay,” he said after a few minutes. “Go home. We’ll forget all about this.”

                There was something in his tone that made me doubt him. But I was only too relieved to be released. I had to make Mercutio turn around to leave and I will never be able to wash away the guilt of that innocuous gesture. There are nights I lie awake wondering what I could’ve done differently, beating myself over the ways I failed my friends that night. I’ve constructed a million speeches that might’ve saved all three of us.

                The sound of a gunshot in real life is a million times louder than it is on TV. It shatters everything around you. I was paralyzed by the noise alone. If Mercutio hadn’t slumped into me I don’t think I would’ve been able to move. One second he was standing next to me, grumbling about how he wasn’t finished with Ty, and the next, his blood was on my clothes.

                 I screamed. I wish I could say I was brave and stoic, but it’s not true. I screamed. It wasn’t his name or a word; just a cry of utter shock and horror. A patch of blood welled up on Mercutio’s t-shirt. He started to fall. I caught him, following him to the pavement. He was so heavy.

                These are the things I remember: Mercutio, gasping and bleeding in my arms. Romeo, staring at us, his expression shifting from surprise to rage. I remember him throwing himself at Ty. I remember them wrestling for the gun and I remember it going off again. Ty’s friends ran—they said afterward that they were afraid the noise would bring the cops.

                 I remember tearing off my sweatshirt and holding it to Mercutio’s wound. I remember telling him that I’d never forgive him if he died. I said, _I have you, it’s okay._ I said, _Don’t talk._ My phone was in my hand. I talked to a calm, businesslike woman who worked for emergency services. Something in me was operating on autopilot. All I knew was that I had to save my friend. I had to do what I always did.

 

               Everything is in pieces. They say that trauma splinters your experiences. I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly Romeo was in front of me and he had Ty’s gun and he said something like, “I’ll find him. He ran but I’ll find him.” And then he was gone.

               After that, the ambulance arrived. Mercutio had passed out. The ride to the hospital was a blur, as was the moment they wheeled him away. I think I argued with a nurse. He told me that I would have to wait. I wanted to say, “He needs me. You can’t make me wait out here because _he needs me_.” But I bit my tongue and let myself be guided to the waiting room.

There were plenty of empty chairs. I didn’t sit. “I can fix this,” I muttered to myself, fumbling for my phone. “I can fix this.”

                I called Romeo but all I got was dial tone. I tried again. And again. Then I texted him. I sent him a million messages, but he never responded to any of them. Didn’t even read them. I know because the time stamps never appeared.

                The whole time I was waiting, I didn’t know what I wanted more: for Romeo to tell me where he was or for Mercutio to get out of surgery. I paced around the room; don’t know how many loops I made. Some amount of time passed. Probably a few hours.

                He lived. That whole time, I held it together, but when the nurse came out and told me he was stable, I burst into tears.

 

                Mercutio said later that maybe the reason he survived was because Ty died around the same time. We only heard about it the next morning, after his body was found. The police came to find us. Mercutio was in no state to be questioned, so I got interrogated instead.

                No, I had no idea where Romeo was. Yes, I saw him take the gun. Yes, Ty had shot Mercutio. Was he provoked? No, officer, he wasn’t. And no, Mercutio won’t be able to talk to you until he recovers. Sorry.

                “They’re going to arrest him when they find him,” Mercutio said. “Fuck. I never thought he’d _kill_ someone.”

                “Me neither.” Just thinking about it made me shudder. Romeo had never shown homicidal tendencies before. He didn’t even play shooters.

                I had been hovering next to Mercutio’s bed all morning. My parents had dragged me away last night to get some sleep, but practically the second I was up, I was out the door. Mercutio’s parents had visited him as soon as they got the news. He said they both cried a lot.

                “How do you feel?” I asked.

                “Like I got shot.” I frowned at him. “Okay, okay. I’m not horrible. I’m on a _lot_ of pain meds.”

                Romeo didn’t know he was alive. He hadn’t seen my messages. I was afraid of what he might do, thinking Mercutio was gone for good. I was at the point of giving up trying to reach him. He might have ditched his phone. I didn’t share these anxieties with Mercutio. He was too doped up to handle them. Besides, he’d had enough stress for one day.

                “Will you bring me some of your dad’s lasagna?” Mercutio croaked. “The hospital food sucks.”

                “Sure.” I pushed some of his hair back from his face. “Anything you want.”

 

                School had become a gauntlet. For days after I was dodging questions from teachers and students alike. They all wanted to know about my cousin the murderer. Some of them asked about Mercutio. They passed me “Get Well Soon” cards and flowers to take to him. Occasionally one of them would accompany me to the hospital, where they’d exchange a few short words with Mercutio before leaving us in peace. This didn’t last long. A new terrible event was on the horizon, creeping forward like a storm.

                Juliet was absent during this time. I was grateful. I didn’t think I could handle the guilt of facing her: guilt at not preventing the tragedy and guilt at not being able to mourn her cousin. She had loved Ty. They’d grown up together like siblings. Ty, who had shot Mercutio and probably tried to kill Romeo, had protected and loved Juliet as his sister. I could barely make sense of my emotions.

                A week after she had been gone, Rosaline approached me before class with tears in her eyes. On some level I think I already knew what she was about to say. The first thing she did was shove me. I dropped my notebooks. They fluttered open on the floor.

                “Juliet’s in the hospital,” she choked out. “Because of your fucking cousin.”

                “I don’t…”

                “She attempted suicide last night.” Tears started to stream down her face. “No one has any idea what she’s been through. I hope they find Romeo and lock him up for the rest of his life.”

                She left me with that. I didn’t even make it through first period. No one would shut up about Juliet. There was only so much I could take. So I feigned a stomach bug and left. Mercutio was surprised to see me.

                “Hey,” he said, sitting up in bed. “Did you cut class?”

                “I just couldn’t do it.” I dropped my bag next to my usual chair. “I never want to go back. I’ll get my GED and then move to a university out of state.”

                “Not without me you won’t. What happened? Here.” Mercutio scooted himself over slightly. He patted the small, empty space beside him.

                I didn’t bother resisting. I climbed in next to him, like I used to back home. Mercutio was doing a lot better. They had him on fewer painkillers. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that nothing had happened.

                “Juliet Capulet was admitted here last night,” Mercutio said. “I heard the nurses talking about it. Do you know what she’s here for?”

“She tried to kill herself,” I whispered. “Everyone was talking about it at school.”

                Mercutio turned his head to face me. “Why?”

                “No one knows. There’re a lot of rumors. A lot of people think it was because of Ty. They were really close, remember?”

                “Could be. If Romeo turned up dead, would you kill yourself?”

                “No.”

                He hesitated for a few seconds. “Would you kill yourself if _I_ died?”

                “I don’t want to talk about this.” I sat up. “The nurse is going to kick me out if she sees me in your bed.”

                “Benny…” Mercutio grabbed my arm and dragged me back down. “I didn’t mean it like that. Please don’t commit suicide for anyone. And it’s fine. You’re not hurting me.”

                “Let go,” I said. I tried to pull my arm free but his grip tightened. “Why are you like this? You and Romeo act like I don’t have a life outside of—”

                “I’m really scared.”

                Everything came to a screeching halt. I stopped trying to escape. Mercutio was trying to crush my wrist. He seemed to realize that he was being rough and eased up. He let out a shaky breath as he stared up at the ceiling.

                “I almost died. I thought it couldn’t get worse, but now…” He licked his lips. “My best friend’s a murderer and Juliet Capulet is suicidal. I keep thinking that Romeo is going to get hurt out there and we can’t help him.” Then he started crying. One second his eyes were dry and the next, tears were rolling down his cheeks. “I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

                I stayed there with him. I held his hand and tried to reassure him that this was just a rough patch; tomorrow everything would be better. But I couldn’t say those words with any certainty. I just knew it wasn’t his fault. And I hated to see him cry.

 

                When my phone rang at 3AM, I had this thought that it was Romeo. I remember scrambling out of bed and ripping the charger out of the wall in the frenzy. Even when I saw it was Mercutio, my sleep-dulled brain decided that Romeo had contacted Mercutio at the hospital.

                Instead, it was just Mercutio, his voice raw as he said, “You need to get over here. Quick.”

                “Is it Romeo?”

                “It’s… I can’t say it over the phone. Oh my God, Benny.”

                I think I knew it all then. Sometimes people claim they can feel it when a loved one has died. Like a sixth sense. I don’t know if it was as straightforward as that, but as I hung up on Mercutio, I sensed an emptiness in our lives. A hole that would never be filled. All the water rushing out of a broken glass.

                The scene at the hospital was chaos. There were police cars everywhere. I was dizzy from the blue and red lights. A cop stopped me.

                “Who are you? What’s your business here?”

                I forgot how to speak for a few seconds. I’d just spotted Romeo’s mother talking to another policeman. She was sobbing. Behind her, Capulet— _the_ Capulet—was hanging onto his wife like she was the only thing holding him up.

                “I said, what are you doing here?”

                “Please,” I blurted. “My friend…”

                He studied me for a long time. I didn’t know what else to say. I could’ve said that was my aunt and uncle over there, or that my other friend was in the hospital and I desperately had to see him. Or that Romeo was my cousin and I deserved to know what happened.

                The cop put his hand on my shoulder. “Go home, kid. You don’t want to see this.”

                It was too late. I saw a nurse with blood on her scrubs. They’d put a shock blanket around her shoulders. I felt sick. No. I closed my eyes and turned away.

                “I will sue this hospital!” Mrs. Capulet was screaming. “Why weren’t you watching her? Why didn’t anyone _do_ something?”

                “Please,” I repeated. “My friend’s inside. He’s recovering from a gunshot wound; I have to see him.” My voice sounded too calm to my own ears.

                “I can’t do that.”

                In a desperate move, I said, “My uncle will pay off the chief. You won’t lose your job, I promise.”

                He stared at me. Then, he ducked under the police tape, put his arm around me and guided me over to a squad car. For a second, I panicked. I thought I was being arrested. The cop seemed to sense my fear.

                “It’s okay. I’m just going to take you home.” He opened the passenger side door for me. “You need some rest. Come on, get in.”

                I decided to stop arguing. I got in. We didn’t talk, except to give and receive directions. My mind was blank. I barely even registered my parents standing on our front stoop. They were clearly rattled. I wondered if they’d heard the news or were just spooked by the cop car.

                “It’s alright,” the officer called out the window. “He’s not in trouble.”

                “Thank you,” my father said. He on edge, but polite. Mom hugged me as soon as I within her reach. She waited until the cop had gone before she released me.

                “Benny,” she whispered, taking my face in her hands, “what’s going on?”

                I shook my head. “I have to call Mercutio.”

 

                We stayed up late that night, talking on the phone. Mercutio didn’t want to sleep; neither did I. Apparently no one was telling him much, but he’d gathered the important details: Romeo had managed to get into the hospital, found Juliet’s room, and put Ty’s gun in his mouth. Juliet woke up from the shot. The gun was empty by that point, but she found Romeo’s switch blade and opened up her wrists again. They were both found dead on the floor, Juliet’s body on top of Romeo’s, a huge pool of blood spreading beneath them. (Juliet’s mom was true to her word about suing the hospital, but so far it’s been difficult to prove negligence—when the staff made it into the room, they discovered that one of them had barricaded the door with a chair).

                “Why did he do it?” Mercutio said. “Why didn’t he tell us anything?”

                “He didn’t trust us.” I couldn’t comprehend it; Romeo had always trusted me. Mercutio and I were constantly with him. How could he be suicidal and never show it to us? I thought we were the closest to him.

                We hung up as the sun rose.

 

                Mercutio was released from the hospital in time for the funeral. He insisted on going. The doctors were very clear about him not stressing his wound. They made me swear to look after him, which I would’ve done anyway.

                I’d taken the past few days off of school. I couldn’t stand the atmosphere. All anyone could talk about was the suicides. If it wasn’t about Romeo, it was about Juliet. I caught Rosaline crying in the hallways a couple times. There were a few instances where I almost approached her, but then realized I wouldn’t make her feel any better. I had no comfort to offer, only commiseration.

                Mercutio and I clung to each other during the whole thing. He ate; I didn’t. I fielded condolences from relatives and family friends. Romeo’s father had asked me to deliver a eulogy and though I’d said yes, I was starting to regret that decision. What did I say about Romeo? That I hadn’t known him as well as I thought? That I hated him sometimes?

                In the end, I gave everyone what they wanted to hear. (It was what I wanted to hear, too.) I told the crowd that Romeo had been like a brother to me. I told them that I wished I could’ve done more for him, that I would give anything for him to be alive right now. It was all the truth, but it was the uncomplicated version. Several times during my speech, Mercutio met my eyes.

                We knew each other’s minds better than anyone.

                After the ceremony had ended and everyone was filtering toward the parking lot to head to the graveyard, Mercutio grabbed my arm and dragged me into an empty side hallway. His kiss was desperate and sick and my whole body was shaking, but we needed each other because we were the only ones left.

                “I can’t do this right now,” I said.

                “I can’t either.” He kissed me again, shorter this time.

                I didn’t have to say, “I want to leave.” We went home. He cried again in the car and I held his hand over the gear shift. He always came to me when he felt fragile; this was something I knew how to do. We were past the point of things being complicated between us.

                “You heard the story, right?” he said later, sitting in my kitchen while we waited for a pot of coffee to brew. “They were in love. Her diary was full of stuff about him.”

                The cops had been through their personal things. At first the police were looking for evidence of a one-sided obsession, until they found Juliet’s diary and a few of the things Romeo had given her. He bought her a ring. She’d been wearing it around her neck the day she attempted to kill herself the first time. They’d been seeing each other for the past month and a half.

                Right now there was no official diagnosis for depression, but there were apparently several references to suicide scattered throughout Romeo’s poetry and Juliet’s journal entries. I had made a reasonable argument to see Romeo’s computer. They let me, but only on the condition that I not spread the files. (I never would; even dead, I’d never lay out Romeo’s heart like that.)

                _They never ask me what I want to do,_ he’d written. _My future is an assumption. I feel free when I’m with her. Sometimes I think I should tell B and M, but it would just hurt their feelings. They’d think I needed to escape from them, though that’s not true. And it’s not like they can understand. Jules knows. If we were allowed to be together, she could heal me._

His computer was full of stuff like that. I’m still not sure how to feel about it. I could only stomach a third of his entries. It made me too upset. Mercutio had refused point blank to read anything. He didn’t even want to hear about it from me.

                “Romeo was an idiot,” I said, without heat. “Do you think he would’ve stayed with her if they’d lived? You know what he was like.”

                “Maybe. But then again, she was the first girl who ever loved him back.”

                “I just…” I had a mug in my hands, for the coffee. Something inside me wanted to smash it on the floor. “We weren’t enough?”

                All those years I’d listened to his secrets and his fears and covered for him and comforted him and it wasn’t enough to save his life. And Mercutio, who he’d killed for. That wasn’t enough. Didn’t we love him enough?

                Mercutio stood up. He took the mug from my hands and put an arm around my shoulders. “Sit down,” he said softly. “I’ve got it.”

                “No, you’re the guest. I’ll…”

                “Benny,” he held my wrists, “you’re going to drop something. Let me do it.”

                He fixed my coffee, then his own. He winced when he sat. I didn’t want him moving around too much. I was terrified he’d pull his stitches. The cups sat between us, untouched until the steam stopped curling off the tops. Mercutio pushed my mug closer to me.

                “Both hands,” he advised.

                “I’m _fine_.”

                He didn’t believe me. I didn’t have the energy to argue. Mercutio sipped his, holding the ceramic against his lower lip to feel its warmth. “Capulet and your uncle are meeting after Juliet’s funeral. My dad says they’re entering peace talks.”

                “I thought there’d be a war.”

                Mercutio shook his head. “They say they feel responsible for their children’s deaths. All this hatred between your families made it impossible for our generation to live.”

                “Good,” I said, though I didn’t feel good. _Bene._

                We drank our coffee in silence. We cleaned the cups. I leaned on Mercutio’s shoulder, feeling the heat of him through his suit, holding onto his life. He laid his palm flat against my back.

                “I need you,” he said quietly.

                “I know. I need you, too.”

                And the world felt a little less fucked up. 


End file.
